


Young Idjit

by AfricanDaisy, KayleeArafinwiel



Series: On Earth As It Is In Heaven [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Implied Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Paternal Bobby Singer, Spanking, Strapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 01:46:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1964286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AfricanDaisy/pseuds/AfricanDaisy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayleeArafinwiel/pseuds/KayleeArafinwiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, spoilers to the beginning of season 7. After Castiel is cleansed of his God complex and the Leviathans leave him, Castiel has to live with his guilt over what his actions have done to his friends. After all, he doesn't have a Father to help him atone. Or does he? Bobby Singer isn't about to let the young angel down when he is most in need of help - and forgiveness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Young Idjit

“Hey, Castiel, you know…since the boys are busy, I think you and I ought to have a little chat.” He didn’t really expect the angel, recently rid of the things that had been taking him over, to answer, but the soft rush of wings made him turn around.

“You rang.”

“Yeah, in a manner of speaking.” Bobby studied Castiel for a moment. Still trenchcoated, still – well, he wouldn’t say ‘a sex object’, but he saw where the ladies and some men, he added silently, thinking of one of the boys downstairs, one who had depended on Castiel so long – got off thinking of Castiel as attractive. And still rather touchingly naïve about humanity and how it worked, for all he had been one of the most human of the angels at times. Still, he had been around the boys long enough to absorb some cultural references.

“What do you need?” Castiel looked eager to keep it brief, but Bobby wasn’t going to let him.

“It’s more a matter of what you need, son.” Bobby held up a hand to forestall the disgraced angel’s protest. “I know, I get it, you’re older’n humanity itself. Taller than the Chrysler Building. I remember the whole lot, Castiel. But that doesn’t mean you’re not in need of a father. Does it?” Castiel opened his mouth briefly, thought better of it, then shut it again. He seemed wrong-footed somehow, unsure.

 “Well…” Castiel bowed his head slightly. “I miss my Father very much,” he admitted quietly. “Things have not been…easy, since He…left us. And I thought my brothers and sisters would feel better if I…”

“You were an idjit, Cas,” Bobby said bluntly. “Let’s get that straight. I don’t blame you for being upset. Hell, you and the rest of the lot have the king of daddy issues. I get it. I lost my father. The boys lost John. We understand, Cas. Your Father just happens to be God, but that don’t mean we’re stupid or can’t feel for you. Does it? And treatin’ us like we were…favorite pets…who can’t feel for you was all kinds of idjit.”

“I could smite you for that,” Cas said.

Bobby raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Go ahead, if I’m wrong.”

Cas didn’t respond, and Bobby studied him. “You gonna smite me, God Jr.? Or you gonna man up and square this with me, then?”

“I wish to make amends for what I did to you, Sam, and Dean,” Castiel said softly. “Somehow.”

“I know,” Bobby said roughly. “So we’re gonna see about that.”

“How?” Castiel asked, and Bobby paused.

“You…uh, remember the pizza man and the babysitter, Cas?” he asked offhandedly. Castiel gave him a sidelong look.

“I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

"You're not supposed to talk about porn, boy," Bobby said shortly. "Spanking's not just in porn. You do know that, right? Been around for what, six thousand years, you must have seen a fair bit."

Castiel narrowed his eyes slightly and tilted his head in the way he did when he was confused. "I have seen many things, yes. We can talk about that if you wish."

"I would prefer to talk about the problem at hand," Bobby said firmly. "Now, we've established you went all God Mach II on us, that you've got your system cleaned out and you want to repent. We've also established that going off to make a deal with Crowley, the damn King of Hell, and sucking all of Purgatory in was a damn fool idea. Now, Dean calls you a child, and I know you don't like it, Castiel, but even you have to admit that was a childish thing to pull. Your brother called the Apocalypse a tantrum of Lucifer's. Well, I ain't sayin' you're Lucifer by a long shot, but running off like that without thinking this through was just as dangerous. You could have done a lot more damage than you did."

Castiel sighed quietly and looked down. "I am aware of the damage that I did and the damage that I could have done. Nobody knows that better than I do. What I did…what I became…" The angel shook his head, guilt and contempt and pain flickering briefly across his face. "I know it."

"All right then. We're going to fix it now," Bobby said quietly. "You'll atone and the slate will be clean. Trenchcoat off, Castiel. Put it over the chair."

Castiel slowly removed his coat, though he clearly didn't understand the order. He placed it carefully over the chair and then turned to face Bobby. "I took my coat off," he said unnecessarily.

"Yes, I see that," Bobby murmured. "That's good, Cas." He took a seat in the middle of the couch. "Come here, and take your trousers off," he ordered.

Castiel hesitated and stared at the old hunter, confusion and doubt warring in his cobalt gaze. "These?" he asked softly, plucking at the black trousers.

"Those, yes," Bobby nodded. "You can put them with the trenchcoat."

"Bobby, I-" What Castiel wanted to say was that he wanted Dean, but he cut himself off. He couldn't shame himself like that. And besides, he didn't even know if he and Dean were all right. Or if they'd ever be all right, after the things he had done. Instead, the angel took a deep breath. "I don't understand why you want me to undress," he said finally.

"I'm going to spank you," Bobby said, finally managing to get it out. "Like I said, it's not just for what you saw on TV. Parents discipline their kids this way, or guardians who look after children. Sometimes even grown children. And you've been like a brother to my boys. You're family, Castiel. I ain't gonna let you suffer when I can help you atone, like any father would do."

"I do not deserve help," Castiel said quietly. "I deserve many things, but help...no."

"And it ain't about deserts, either," Bobby added firmly. "I may not know what happened to God, Castiel, but if there's one thing this," he reached over and touched the Bible, "taught me about Him, it's that He had mercy on His children before. Human parents do too, or ought. We do what's right for our children, and that includes helping them when they need it, whether they deserve it or not. Hell, the number of times I've pulled Dean and Sam out of scrapes when they haven't deserved it, I lost count. And you helped them, too, didn't you? Even when they deserved it least. So you know it's not about deserts, Castiel. I'm gonna help you whether you like it or not."

Castiel nodded quietly, slowly flexing his hands down by his sides as though he was fighting the temptation to spread his wings and send himself away somewhere. "Is it going to be like the pizza man?"

"Yes and no," Bobby said honestly. "It's goin' to hurt, I won't lie, Castiel. But the pizza man and the babysitter were getting pleasure from it. Some people do, in certain situations. This isn't going to be about pleasure. This is atonement, plain and simple."

After a few long moments of silence, Castiel took a deep breath. "What must I do, then?"

"Trousers off," Bobby repeated. "You've got shorts on underneath them, I expect?"

Castiel nodded warily. "Yes. Must I remove them too?"

"No. You can keep those on," Bobby said. "Trousers off and put them with the trenchcoat, then come here."

Sighing softly, the angel unfastened his trousers, though he kept them in position. "I could just push them down…" he suggested, sounding hopeful.

"Off," Bobby said shortly. "All the way off, son."

"I don't understand why it has to be this way," Castiel muttered, though he leaned down and took his shoes off before removing his trousers as well. He put them over the back of the chair, on top of the trenchcoat, then turned slowly to Bobby. "But I have no right to protest," he acknowledged quietly.

"I know you don't understand, Castiel," Bobby said. "I think after, you will. It's a hard thing to explain in words." He nodded. "All right, over my lap, son. You'll fit; the couch will hold you up."

Castiel stared at Bobby's lap before taking a couple of tentative steps forward. He leaned forward to try and get into position, then straightened and frowned slightly, considering. It didn't seem like it would be a very comfortable position, he reflected unhappily.  With a deep breath, he leaned down again and slowly lowered himself into position, guided by Bobby's firm hand.

"That's right. Ok, now, like I said, this is going to hurt, son. So if you need to cry, don't be ashamed to do it. There's nothing wrong with that," Bobby said quietly. "Nothing wrong with honest tears." He wrapped an arm around the angel's waist to secure him before resting his other hand on Castiel's thinly clothed bottom.

Castiel flinched in surprise, then held himself still. "Is it all right if I don't cry?" he asked quietly.

"You don't have to if you don't feel you need to, son. But I've never seen Dean come out of one of these without shedding a few tears at least," Bobby warned Castiel. Of course, it had been a while since he had tanned Dean's hide for him - probably too long, the young idjit, he thought irritably. But Dean - and Sam, too - never held out to the end without crying a little at least, big and strong as they were. If Castiel understood that even Dean cried, maybe he'd feel more open to the idea.

The angel nodded thoughtfully. He still didn't like the idea of crying in front of Bobby, and shaming himself any more than he already had, but if Dean did it…well, maybe that wasn't so bad. "I think I am ready," he said quietly.

"All right, son." Bobby nodded, and began to spank Castiel, the first half-dozen swats landing in rapid succession over the angel's thinly clad bottom cheeks. He didn't lecture, since that had already been accomplished and he didn't see any point in taking Castiel's attention away from the spanking.

Castiel was very quiet, his head bowed and his eyes dark and troubled. It didn't hurt terribly yet, but Bobby's hand was hard and it wasn't exactly a pleasant feeling. It was uncomfortable and actually not very nice at all. Castiel wasn't sure which bothered him more - the repeated blows falling upon his bottom, or the embarrassing position that he was in. He did feel very much like a child, small and vulnerable. For now, it was the position that bothered him most, he decided.

The second circuit of swats fell lower, overlapping Castiel's sit spots, as Bobby continued the firm spanking. He wasn't about to go easy on Castiel just because it was his first time. Not for this.

The smacks were starting to leave a sting behind, and Castiel shifted slightly, focusing on the unpleasant tingling sensation. He didn't feel like crying yet, and he wondered how much it would take to make him cry. "Is this a long...procedure?" he asked awkwardly.

"It's variable," Bobby said. "Just trust me to know how much you need, son." He knew Castiel must be feeling it by now, angel or not, and the next flurry of swats covered Castiel's undercurve thoroughly.

Castiel let out a quiet sigh and stared down at his hands resting on the settee. Yes, he was feeling it. It felt warm but not in a good way, and the sting across his flesh felt stronger and almost…fiery. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes. It felt like his flesh should look fiery to match the way it felt, and he wondered if that was what happened.

Bobby landed six hard swats to the top of each of Castiel's thighs, and let his reddened palm rest, finally. It stung just as much as Castiel's backside did, he knew. "Idjit," he muttered, shaking his hand out. "Damn it all."

"Are you well, Bobby?" Castiel asked quietly.

"I'll be fine, thanks," Bobby muttered. "All right, nearly done then, Castiel. Up on your feet, you're going to be over the back of the couch for this last part. Hands on the seat. We're going to finish up with the strap."

"With the strap?" Castiel repeated curiously, as he got to his feet.

"This," Bobby said, retrieving it from his desk and showing it to the curious angel.

"That looks…aggressive," Castiel remarked.

"It ain't more aggressive than lettin' a bunch of Leviathans loose, son," Bobby said quietly. "Those things could have killed you, not to mention what they actually got up to."

Castiel lowered his eyes, a hint of grief showing briefly on his face. "You are quite right," he said quietly, and he took up position over the back of the couch, bracing himself with his hands on the seat.

Bobby doubled up the strap and cracked it down sharply on Castiel's bottom, one stroke following the next. _One. Two. Three_. The welts stood out on the angel's already red bottom cheeks, even through his white shorts.

Castiel didn't quite cry out, but his breath caught in shock. Tears stung his eyes and he bowed his head, trying to ignore the tears he felt slipping out from under his lashes.

 _Four. Five. Six._ The next three strokes caught Castiel's sit spots. Bobby was intent on teaching the impetuous angel a firm lesson.

The strokes made Castiel arch his back, and he suppressed a sob, angry with himself, furious, hating himself. He didn't have the right to cry. He deserved this. He deserved worse than this. He had wanted to die for what he had done, and maybe he still deserved that. What was this compared to all the other ways he deserved to be punished? He clenched his jaw and stared straight ahead, willing his tears away.

 _Seven. Eight. Nine_. The strokes fell on Castiel's undercurve, Bobby placing his hand on the angel's back lightly as it arched. He wasn't going to restrain Castiel - as if he could, anyway - but perhaps some semblance of a comforting presence was in order. _Almost over, son_ , he thought, then wondered if Castiel could read thoughts. _Easy does it_.

Castiel relaxed ever so slightly, but he shook with the effort of not breaking down. Everything hurt, everything felt like it was on fire, and he just wanted to cry for the pain and for the things he had done, the thing he had become, but he held it back, his fists clenched, nails digging into his palm, and his lips pressed tightly together, teeth sunk into them.

"No biting your lip, son," Bobby said. "I can tell. It's all right to cry. It ain't all right to force yourself not to."

"I wish to bite my lip," Castiel whispered.

"So do Dean and Sam, and I don't let them either," Bobby said sharply. "Let it go, we're just about done here."

Castiel shook his head quietly. He didn't understand why he wasn't allowed to bite his lip.

"You spill enough of your blood drawing those angel signs, son. I'm not letting you make yourself bleed for something like this," Bobby said. "Let it go now or I'll be giving you extras for disobeying me."

Castiel released his lip, but only so he could speak. "It doesn't matter if I bleed."

"It matters to _us_!" Bobby said, as he landed the final three rapid-fire strokes, catching Castiel's thighs.

Unable to hold back a cry of pain, Castiel collapsed over the back of the couch, his shoulders rising and falling as he breathed heavily. His cheeks were wet with tears. He could feel them still falling. Silent in his grief, the angel pressed his face against his upper arm and squeezed his eyes shut, trembling. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what he could possibly say.

Bobby coiled the strap and put it away, then began rubbing Castiel's back gently. "There now, son," he said softly. "That's it, cry it out, that's just fine. Take deep breaths, it's all right now, Castiel. It's all right now. All finished. It's forgiven now."

"Just like that?" Castiel whispered.

"Just like that," Bobby said quietly. "It wasn't easy for you, was it, son?" He pulled Castiel up into a tight hug, patting the angel's back. "Not easy at all, I'll wager. I don't know how things were managed up in Heaven, so I'm guessing that might not seem like much to some of your brothers and sisters. Some pain that'll fade quickly enough. But I don't think it was just the pain that was the hard part, was it? Never was for the boys." He continued to hold Cas, silent now, wondering what the young angel would have to say for himself.

"It wasn't just the pain," Castiel agreed in the same whisper, letting himself be held. "You made me feel like a child, and you were right to. I acted like a child. Like a stupid, foolish, dangerous idiot of a child. But I never meant for it to be so…so bad. I never meant to be bad."

" _You_ weren't bad, son," Bobby said gently. "Your _behavior_ was, but _you_ aren't bad. You're _good_ , in here where it counts. And your behavior's paid for. It's in the past now," the hunter reassured Castiel. "Dean and Sam will forgive you. They know what I had planned to do. They made themselves scarce so you wouldn't feel bad about them being here."

"I wanted to kill myself," Castiel breathed. "I'm afraid that if I go to Heaven and see what I did there, I still might."

"You ain't gonna do that on my watch, son," Bobby said firmly. "And I know, at any time you could pull up your angel mojo and go flyin' upstairs to take a look. But I'd really prefer you didn't, not if that's what you think might happen. Dean and Sam wouldn't prefer it either. The three of us want you safe where you belong, with your family." He gestured around the room, taking in himself, Dean's pack slung carelessly in a corner, and an untidy pile of Sam's books. "You got that, Castiel?"

The angel nodded, bowing his head as a couple of tears slid down his cheeks. "Yes, Bobby. I understand."

"It's because we love you," Bobby said firmly, "that we don't want you to get hurt. You're one of us, our family, and we take care of our own. You're important to us, Castiel."

Castiel drew a deep, unsteady breath. "That means very much to me."

"You mean very much to us," Bobby said, gently patting the angel's shoulder. "You can get dressed again now, or if you'd prefer to stay like that and rest for a bit, just lie down on the couch. There's a blanket there that'll cover you."

Castiel nodded quietly and pulled his trousers back on, though he left his shoes and the trenchcoat off. He lay on the couch and pulled the blanket over himself. It smelled comfortingly of old books and worn leather and car oil. It smelled of Sam and Dean and Bobby. Castiel inhaled the scent slowly and rested his head on a cushion. "Will Sam and Dean think poorly of me for…this?" he asked quietly. "For being punished like a child."

"No." Bobby shook his head. "Round here, that's what happens to young idjits who go off their fool heads. But it's done now, so unless you want to talk about it more, we don't have to. Up to you; this is about how you feel, son, not anyone else."

"Am I a…'young idjit'?" Castiel asked curiously. He had never been called an idjit before. Strangely, it made him feel like part of the family.

"I suppose so," Bobby said, with a quiet chuckle. "Angel or not."

"Thank you, Bobby," Castiel said seriously.

"You're welcome," Bobby said, nodding. "Like I said, you're family. Now, get some rest, hm? Dean and Sam should be back before too long. I don't suppose angels need much sleep, but that sort of experience does tend to wear a body out - probably a vessel, too."

"I will rest," Castiel nodded quietly. "Do…do you think Dean will see me when he gets back? I mean…Sam and Dean, when they get back," he corrected himself, slightly flustered.

"Sure they will," Bobby nodded, electing to ignore the angel's slip of the tongue. "Don't worry about that," he said, and smiled reassuringly. "It's all right now, son. You're home."

Castiel relaxed and managed a small smile, and he closed his eyes as he pulled the blanket more snugly around himself. He didn't need sleep like humans did, but rest was necessary even for angels - especially for angels who were still recovering from the sort of tribulations that Castiel had endured, even if he had brought them on himself. As he drifted into a light slumber, Castiel's last thought was a hope that making things right with Bobby would make them right with Dean too.

Bobby stayed to watch over the sleeping angel, and was there when Dean and Sam returned. Sam took one look at the angel on the couch, glanced at Bobby, and gestured to the empty beer bottle in Dean's hand. Bobby pointed to the kitchen, and Sam went to grab a cold one, purposely taking his time.

"He's asleep," Bobby said, quietly stating the obvious.

"Yeah," Dean replied quietly. "I see that. Is he...is he okay?"

"Sore, but seems okay otherwise," Bobby said. "Probably heal of it faster than you boys, I should expect."

"You really did it then," Dean murmured.

"I did," Bobby confirmed. "Boy was confused as hell at first, but he got used to the idea soon enough."

Dean stood by the settee and gazed down at the sleeping angel. "Was he difficult for you, Bobby?"

"Not any more than you were for your first time," Bobby said slowly. "He wanted answers, he wanted to know why I was asking him to do this or that. And he wanted to know if it would be like the pizza man," Bobby added with a snort. "Little idjit." He shook his head, giving the sleeping angel a fond, paternal glance. "I did my best to answer his questions, but I'm sure he's still got a few and he don't want those answers from me."

"That damn pizza man," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes. "Sorry Bobby, I don't think you'd rock the pizza man uniform."

"I don't intend to," Bobby said, rolling his eyes as well. "I lectured the boy, I told him I wasn't havin' him stew over what he'd done and I was gonna help him atone. I told him it ain't just about what he deserves, it's about mercy, atonement and forgiveness. I told him to get his trousers off, and he tried to bargain with me, suggestin' that he could just take them down a bit. Sounds like some other boy I know." Bobby raised an eyebrow at Dean. "I told him no dice, of course. But instead of fightin' back like someone else I know might do, he simply said he didn't understand why, did as he was told, and added, 'I have no right to protest'." Bobby considered Castiel's words.

"He doesn't think he has a right to much of anything right now," Dean said quietly. "Can't say I blame him. I'd feel the same myself."

"Right," Bobby nodded slowly. "Told him it was all right to cry if he needed it. Idjit tried biting his lip anyway, there near the end. Almost think the boy takes after you," Bobby said drily. "Time I got to his sit spots, he asked me, perfectly seriously, 'Is this a long procedure?' And when I had done with his thighs, with my hand at least, he asked me if I was well. That's a new one."

"Cas, damn child," Dean muttered, though he sounded half exasperated and half fond. "What about the rest of it? You gave him a strapping?"

"Twelve," Bobby agreed, nodding. "Calm enough over my knee, but he bit his lip during it nine strokes in, and I had to tell him off. Only reason the little idjit let go was to answer back at me that he didn't see why it mattered if he bled some. I told him it matters to us."

"Did he cry, then?" Dean asked quietly.

"Cried out at the end - I caught his thighs three times with the strap after he'd opened his mouth and said he didn't care about biting his lip. Before that, no, not really," Bobby said thoughtfully. "I was pretty sure I'd spanked him good and proper, though - over his shorts, but I could see the redness coming through. Can't go much harder than that, and I wouldn't ordinarily, even with Cas. Last time I've been this riled, though, someone was making deals with crossroads demons."

Dean nodded slowly. He remembered that very well, but it didn't surprise him much that Castiel hadn't cried until the end. "He's a tough son of a bitch," he remarked. "Hit him in the face once, not long after we met. Thought my hand was broken."

"Note to self, never hit an angel in the face," Bobby said dryly, pretending to write a note in the air as he spoke. "Looks like Sleeping Beauty's coming round," he added. "I'll see if Sam's found the beer yet, give you two a bit."

Castiel blinked as he woke up, an unfamiliar and uncomfortable sensation making itself very present in his rear. He disliked it. "I dislike that," he remarked, not quite fully awake.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said quietly.

Castiel focused on Dean, eyes widening slightly. "Dean," he whispered. "Dean, I am...vastly remorseful for what I have done," he said anxiously. "I bear great sorrow. Bobby says I am forgiven, and yet..." He searched Dean's face anxiously, trying to figure out the emotion in Dean's expression.

Dean pulled a chair over and sat by the couch, propping one foot on the seat. "You screwed up, Cas. But you know that. You knew it before, and I get that you tried to fix it. I get that. When you were you, you thought you were doing the right thing. And when you weren't you…well, I guess you can't be blamed for what you did then."

"I suppose," Castiel said reluctantly. "Are you and Sam still angry?"

Dean shook his head quietly. "We're glad to have you back. We missed you. It's not the same without you here, Cas."

"I am glad to be back," Castiel said quietly. "When I was...away, it was not the same." He frowned slightly, mulling over his earlier experience. "I do not think this was very much like the pizza man and the babysitter," he offered tentatively.

Dean raised his eyebrows and looked at the angel. "It wasn't like the pizza man and the babysitter," he agreed. "You uh…you got any questions?"

"I do not understand the purpose of removing my trousers fully, or at all," Castiel said. "Bobby said I might understand, but I do not."

"Yeah, well...just Bobby's way," Dean muttered. "Made you feel like a child, didn't it?"

"Yes," Castiel said uncomfortably. "It did." He frowned. "Bobby's hand seemed to be hurting after a while."

"Hit something over and over again, a hand will hurt," Dean said briefly.

"Oh," Castiel said. He hadn't thought of that. "Bobby said he was fine," Cas said with some concern. "Is this pain in his hand why he changed over to that?" Castiel pointed to the strap.

Dean glanced at the strap and shook his head. "That was to seal the lesson. And I guess to get you broken down so you'd cry. And you know that's all right, yeah? Crying, I mean."

"I suppose," Castiel said slowly. "Bobby...said you cry every time."

Dean shifted slightly and propped his other boot on the couch. He didn't particularly like the idea of discussing his past punishments, but it was fair that Castiel understood, he supposed. "Yeah, well...I guess it's not a proper lesson if you don't cry. Bobby wouldn't be doing it right."

"What is the purpose of tears?" Castiel wanted to know.

Dean opened his mouth then closed it again. He knew that Castiel understood sadness and had experienced it. He'd never seen the angel all out crying, but he'd seen a shimmer of tears in those blue eyes and on dark lashes before. "How d'you mean, Cas? You mean...why do we have them?"

"Yes. I understand that they are a liquid product of ducts in the eyes, and often appear in reaction to irritation from small particles, or in response to sadness. But...why are we expected to have them during this...procedure?" Castiel clarified.

Dean scratched his head. He'd never had to think about this before. "Wow, Cas. Uh...I don't know if there's a why. It's just natural, I guess. You didn't make yourself cry, did you? It just happened?"

"It just happened," Castiel agreed. "Although I tried not to let it," he added reluctantly. "Bobby did not like that."

Dean nodded slowly. He didn't much like the idea of Castiel crying, but he knew it had to have been that way. "You feel better for it?"

"I suppose," Castiel said thoughtfully. "I am very sore, which is most unpleasant, but there is a weight that has been...lifted." He considered that. "Bobby helped me to feel better, when he was comforting me, though I am not sure I deserved that comfort." He tilted his head to one side, studying Dean.

"It is common, I suppose, for Bobby to refer to others as 'son'," he said, making it half-question, half-statement.

The question caught Dean off guard, and he returned Castiel's gaze. "No...no, not everyone gets that privilege. Why'd you ask, Cas?"

"He referred to me as 'son' quite frequently during the...the procedure." Castiel stumbled uncomfortably over the words. "I thought it was, as you say, Bobby's way, or another way of making me feel like a child, perhaps. I did not know what to make of it."

"It means he sees you as a son, Cas," Dean said with a small smile, his eyes gleaming. "Simple as that."

"But what does that mean?" Castiel asked desperately. "My Father is..." He gestured vaguely, not knowing what to say. His Father was...absent. And Cas had tried to take his place. He blushed scarlet, staring at the ground.

"What do you mean, Cas?" Dean asked quietly.

"Cas." The angel looked up - a bit more than he had to meet Dean's eyes, because the young giant of a man framed in the doorway was taller than his elder brother. Sam tossed the beer to Dean, but his eyes were still on Castiel.

"Yes, Sam," Castiel said quietly. "How...how much did you hear?"

"Enough," Sam said. "You're wondering what it means for Bobby to see you as a son."

Castiel merely nodded.

"A father - a good father looks out for his kids," Sam said, choosing his words carefully. "He'd use any means to be sure they were safe, and if he couldn't ensure that, at least to make sure they knew they were loved. He wouldn't leave them to fend for themselves forever, without leaving word of where he'd gone or why."

"No," Castiel said softly. "He wouldn't."

Dean was quiet, listening. He and Sam knew something about absent and neglectful fathers, although it had taken Dean a long time to accept that John Winchester had been anything but perfect. "Bobby loves you, man," he said quietly, to Castiel. "Don't matter that you're not human or what you've done. He sees you like he sees us - as one of his own."

"Bobby said that this...procedure was common for parents and children, even grown children," Castiel said pensively, "and that it was what happened to...er...'young idjits who go off their fool heads,' he added, imitating Bobby's intonation rather well. Sam couldn't help but laugh at the reproduction of Bobby's accent, eyes sparkling. "I asked him if that meant I was a 'young idjit', and he said he supposed so, angel or not."

"Yeah...guess you were an idjit," Dean agreed, with a small smile. He stood up, but he paused then and clapped his hand on Castiel's shoulder. "We're glad to have you back."

"Very glad," Sam said, flashing Castiel a smile. "It's good to have you with us again, Cas."

"Thank you," Castiel said, his eyes fixed on Dean's. "It means a lot to me."

"Oh, get a room," Sam laughed, and Castiel looked at him.

"This is a room," he pointed out.

Shaking his head, Sam laughed again and left his brother alone with Castiel.

Dean realised his hand was still on Castiel's shoulder, and he quickly withdrew it. Keeping it there for longer than intended didn't mean anything though, he told himself. He'd just forgotten it was there. Yeah, that was it, he decided. "So uh, Cas, you need anything?" he asked, turning away from the angel and taking a long drink of his beer.

"I am merely grateful for your companionship and your forgiveness, Dean," Castiel said quietly. "I am grateful to be considered part of this family."

"No matter how screwed up we are?" Dean asked, smiling slightly.

Castiel nodded. "I think," he said quietly, "that is part of being a family."

"I think you're right," Dean agreed softly.

"Do you think Bobby will..." Castiel paused, "do that again?"

"If you do anything that deserves it again, maybe I'll do it myself," Dean muttered.

Castiel's eyes widened at that pronouncement. "Would you?"

"Uh…no. No, obviously not. C'mon, Cas," Dean said quickly. "But yeah, Bobby might."

"Oh," Castiel said, nodding. "Er...I do not intend to do anything like this ever again," he added. "I give you my word."

Dean turned back to the angel and met his blue eyes. "I believe you."

"Thank you," Castiel whispered. "Thank you, Dean."


End file.
